


Clandestine

by winternacht



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fisting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mind Meld, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/pseuds/winternacht
Summary: It's not the first time Jon arrives at Elias's door step, hungry for a statement. But this time, Elias has prepared something different for him.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 11
Kudos: 94
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	Clandestine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



“I have a good one for you today,” he whispered into Jon’s hair. “An old one that has never been committed to paper.”

Jon exhaled with a small shudder, and when he pulled back, the shadows of exhaustion seemed to have lifted from his face. “How did you do that?”

There was a tentative pull of compulsion, subconscious, perhaps, but Elias allowed it, let it draw out the answer that he would have willingly given either way. Though the light prickling against his lips had an appeal all of its own. In truth, the only thing the sensation lacked was its usual intensity. A minor setback, but hardly a surprise.

“Not all the artefacts at the Institute are collected because they are in some way harmful due to their association with their power,” Elias said and reached out to stroke Jon’s cold cheek. He didn’t even need to tip Jon’s face up to establish eye contact. “Some of them simply have memories attached to them. And what are memories, if not statements that haven’t been given yet.” He put an arm around Jon’s waist and led him towards the bed.

He could feel Jon allowing him to take his weight, his steps unsteady. Perhaps Elias had turned him away one time too often, this time. But precautions were necessary. He couldn’t allow Jon to see him when he was at his full strength, able to draw knowledge from thin air, compulsion coming to him as naturally as breathing.

The hunger had allowed the Lonely that had taken root at the Institute to creep in, like wisps of fog trailing Jon’s every step, dissipating under Elias’s touch. It wasn’t nearly enough to mark him, yet. Just enough to draw out the ache and the guilt. Elias would have been inclined to express his gratitude towards Peter, had Peter been in any way actively responsible for this development.

Not that Jon hadn’t contributed with his refusal to continue feeding, though Elias couldn’t quite fault him for not understanding his position yet. It was, after all, vital that he didn’t. And in truth, Elias had no reason to complain. He wasn’t setting out to hunt on his own, no.

But he had chosen to go behind the others’ backs. Betray what little trust remained between them to gorge himself on the statements Elias prepared for him. And there were so many in this place, where the Section’s presence was so strong.

At the foot of the bed, Elias loosened his hold on Jon to let him step forward, towards the open box that lay there, marked with a label from Artefact Storage. It contained a silken handkerchief, the finery of its material still evident in the intricate embroidery.

“It belonged to Jonah Magnus,” Elias said, watching carefully for Jon’s reaction. His eyes widened, his curiosity ignited. But Jon frowned when he stepped closer.

“Looks like someone didn’t take good care of it,” he said, indicating a corner where the fabric seemed slightly frayed. The disdain in his voice was palpable, aimed, Elias could tell, at a poor staff member Jon suspected of sloppiness.

“Indeed,” Elias said with a smile. “Why don’t you tell me how it happened?” He took the box and presented it to Jon. Watching as he scooped it up gently in his hand, running a long finger across the embroidery before letting it hover over the damaged area.

“It used to belong to Mordechai Lukas before,” he said slowly, his eyes darting to Elias.

“Yes, it did. It was a gift to Jonah,” Elias said with a hint of pride, and watched a smile bloom on Jon’s face. “What else can you tell me about it?”

“It… it was…” He trailed off with a quiet groan, his grip around the handkerchief growing tight. His mouth opened to continue speaking, but he couldn’t find the words. Then he let out a cry, and his grip grew slack.

The handkerchief was still fluttering to the ground when Elias caught Jon in his arms, holding him as he panted heavily against his shoulder, a hand curled loosely against Elias’s chest.

“Oh, Jon,” Elias said, stroking his back gently. “How long has it been?”

Jon only tensed in response, but he didn’t need to tell him. Elias knew the answer, of course. Reintroducing Gertrude’s system of having statement givers write down their statements may have been a good compromise as far as the Archival staff was concerned, but he could always see Jon staring through the window, enraptured by the mechanical flow of the pen that committed fear-soaked words to paper. Jon recognised what a waste it was, words pouring uselessly down the drain, leaving nothing but an empty husk behind for him to try to squeeze some drops of knowledge from. Just enough to slake his thirst, but never enough to soothe the infinite hunger that continuously tore at him. And each written statement gave him less and less.

He guided Jon towards the bed, enjoying the way Jon clung to him when he laid him down. Where his eyes had been alight with curiosity before, they were now brimming with fear. The awareness of how easily the Eye could feed on him, if he didn’t feed it first.

Elias entered Jon’s mind with a kiss, savouring the fear he tasted on his lips. Slowly, the tension in Jon’s body eased, though his grip on Elias’s shirt didn’t.

Elias pulled back to a sound of protest from Jon and went to pick up the handkerchief. It felt still as soft as it had back then. Jon stared at it with some apprehension. Discontent with his poor performance, Elias hardly had to read his mind to know that.

“How did you even get that?” he asked as Elias returned it to the box and set it down on the nightstand.

“I had it delivered for you. I remembered taking notice of it during my early years at the Institute, when I was still working in Artefact Storage. Not that our collection of artefacts is quite as significant as your collection of statements, but I do think there is a merit in taking a closer look. Even if it’s a skill that requires some honing.”

He watched Jon’s face fall before his expression hardened, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“Still, it was a decent attempt. And you deserve a reward for it.”

He leaned down again to kiss Jon, trailing a hand up his chest, to the knot of his tie.

“You’re… not talking about the statement, are you?” Jon said when the kiss broke, breathing faster.

“Would it disappoint you if not?”

A light flush spread across his cheeks, and he put a hand on Elias’s arm. “No. But– I just–”

“I know,” Elias whispered, and Jon’s expression softened with relief. Elias knew all about how deep his need went. How it burned and burned inside him.

“But I think you haven't earned it quite yet.” In one smooth motion, he unravelled Jon’s tie, watched his chest rise as he inhaled sharply in response. 

All while Elias was unbuttoning Jon's shirt, Jon's eyes never left his. His stare would have been unnerving to other people, but Elias basked in it. He could feel Jon reaching out, like a gentle caress to the surface of his mind. Too weak to breach it despite his need, to even catch a glimpse of what lay underneath. But it wasn’t entirely ineffective either, touching at something deep within Elias.

He undressed Jon slowly, revealing his scars button by button. Never tiring of the sight, of the flash of old fear that sparked through Jon when he touched them. The marks he’d left himself had faded since the last time, but it was all the more reason to renew them. 

He ran his fingers over Jon’s pulse, feeling it race faster as he wrapped his hand around Jon's throat. Just a gentle push as he leaned down to kiss his lips again. Jon's breath stuttered against him, but still, he tried to lean into the kiss. It was then that Elias drew away, leaving Jon to press his throat into the crook of his thumb as he tried to chase Elias's lips before letting his head drop back down onto the pillow.

“You're not going to stop toying around, are you,” he grouched, and Elias let out a quiet laugh before brushing his lips against Jon's jaw, feeling his light stubble, trailing kisses down his neck.

“I don't hear any complaints,” Elias said and dug his teeth into the tender skin, eliciting a choked-off moan from Jon. The mark he'd left had already reddened, but Jon's cheeks grew redder still as he tilted his head to the side and silently begged for more. 

“No complaints at all,” Elias whispered self-satisfied.

“Maybe you're not listening closely enough,” Jon snapped, but the edge of indignation was blunted by the breathless need in his voice, the hand tangled in Elias's hair that kept him in place, trembling as Elias added another mark, just above his collar bone.

“They suit you so well,” he whispered against Jon's skin, tasting the shiver that went through him, relishing the catch in Jon's voice when he murmured Elias's name.

Soon, Jon was entirely bare, the canvas that was his body on full display, his cock still soft but stirring under Elias's attention. Elias pushed Jon’s hands to the mattress, just above his head, and retrieved the handkerchief again, laying it loosely over Jon’s wrists. He could feel Jon gasp at the sensation, the draw of secrets that lured him. 

“The handkerchief stays in place,” Elias said simply. The fabric shifted as Jon's hands balled into fists. But he nodded, licking his lips, keeping his voice under control when he began: “Statement of Jonah Magnus, regarding a gift he received–”

“–on the occasion of the Institute's first anniversary,” Elias supplied, delighting in Jon's surprise. 

“Statement begins,” Jon said, his eyes full of longing. Perhaps if he had tried to pull the memories from Elias himself, he would have realised they were his own. But he'd already learned their roles. Elias was just a conduit. And Jon a receptacle for the statement he provided. Waiting patiently instead of taking, the pain still fresh on his mind.

His face fell when he realised that the statement wasn't beginning after all, and if his fists were balling now, it was more in frustration. 

Elias chuckled, contenting himself with undressing to his underwear before he reached for the lube. He circled Jon’s hole with a finger before pushing inside, feeling him tense immediately with a quiet gasp. Still so tight, still so reactive to the smallest of touches.

He only pushed a little deeper, barely reaching the second knuckle. Taking his time to explore different angles as he pushed inside again and again, only just avoiding Jon's prostate. Little gasps spilled past Jon's lips, his brow furrowed in the dual frustration of being deprived of the sensations he craved and the statement he needed. 

“Please,” he finally said, lightly rocking his hips against Elias. 

With one smooth motion, Elias pushed inside to the last knuckle, choosing an angle that made Jon moan. And then he let his memories flow into Jon.

The change was immediate, the breathlessness all but vanishing from his voice as he began.

“The celebration was Robert's idea, but I will not deny that it appealed to me. The festivities, of course, had a draw of their own, but I can't deny that my main interest lay in finally meeting some of my correspondents face to face.”

He continued to tease Jon through it, but not enough to break his concentration. Just a little, to hear the hitch in his voice. To keep himself from getting too lost in his memories. But he did enjoy listening to Jon take on the manner of his younger self. 

Of course, Jonah had solicited statements – not that they had referred to them as such at the time – long before the actual founding of the Institute, but it had only been afterwards that he'd received letters from strangers. People who seemed to know more than he did. And he had been quite keen on meeting them.

Jon paused at the last word. “That can't have been it,” he said. 

“Of course not,” Elias said, drawing out his finger until only the tip remained inside Jon. “But I'm not done yet, either.”

He pushed a second finger inside Jon, fucking him in slow, shallow motions, inviting the desperate twitching of his hips. Opening Jon up slowly.

“You're doing quite well, Jon,” he said quietly as he entered him fully with his two fingers, and shared some more of the statement. “Why don’t you continue?”

Jon took a few deep breaths, his cheeks flushed. Then he went on:

“The venue Robert had chosen was magnificent, but I will confess to a certain sense of disappointment as I surveyed the guests. It seemed that none of my correspondents had shown up. 

“If it weren't for my keen sight, I surely would have missed the man standing at the far end of the room. Which would have been rather a pity, given how handsome he was.”

The only thing that kept Elias from drifting off into his memories were the little movements Jon made against his fingers while he spoke, unconscious yet a sweet betrayal of his eagerness.

“I excused myself from the table and started making my way across the room, but it seems that in the brief moment I had diverted my attention, the man had vanished.”

Jon pressed his head down into the pillow, his hands curling, trembling with the strain of holding them still.

“That’s not– “ He gasped when Elias pushed a third finger into him. “That’s not fair.” His eyes were wide and hungry, fixed on him so firmly, as though it would be enough to draw out the statement from him. One day, it would be, and Elias looked forward to it with equal amounts of dread and anticipation.

“I’m giving you what you need, aren’t I?” Elias said, and cut off Jon’s response by brushing his fingers against his prostate, making his hips rise off the mattress, precome dripping from his hard cock with the movement. Elias took his time to gently run a finger along it as he gifted Jon the next part of the statement.

As he listened to Jon’s words, he relived his own disappointment. The feeling of dejection he’d had to hide as he returned to his seat.

“It was such a minor matter, and still, it drove me to distraction. I was sure that someone would notice my state, my frantic search for someone who might as well have never been there, when I realised the room around me had gotten oddly quiet. Worried I might have made a spectacle of myself unawares, I turned towards Robert to remedy the situation, but he had all but vanished, his presence so faint I might have thought he was a ghost. Everybody had nearly vanished, their presence almost too faint for me to perceive. Stronger than that, however, was the utter absence of presence by my side. I turned, and there he was. ‘Mordechai Lukas,’ he said as he took a seat. I should have known.”

He’d received a letter from Mordechai a few months after the opening of the Institute, from the letters opening words, he’d expected a sorrowful tale of a man who feared nothing more than the silence finding himself lost at his own estate. Instead, what he’d read was an ode to it. “It wasn’t until later that I realised that it wasn’t the silence I feared,” Mordechai had said. “It was my love of it that had disturbed me.” But he had accepted his embrace, in time.

“How many parts are there,” Jon asked, starting as he watched Elias pour more lube over his fingers.

Elias smiled, setting the bottle aside. He ran a hand along Jon’s tense arms, feeling him tremble. “Why ruin the surprise?” And with that, he started pushing a fourth finger into Jon.

“Elias,” Jon called out anxiously, tensing up.

“Relax,” Elias whispered and kissed Jon’s knee, tasting the salt on his skin, the tension of his muscles. “You’ve been doing so well. You can take it. You can take everything I give you.”

There was a hitch to Jon’s breaths, but Elias could feel him try to relax his body. Just enough that he could slip the tip of his fourth finger in.

Elias sucked a little mark into Jon’s thigh, watching him as he did, that wild curiosity focused fully on him. Not daring to unleash his power, so unsure of whether he could, but Elias could feel it radiating from Jon.

Slowly, he pushed his fingers in deeper, continuing his caresses, until he finally managed to push them in to his knuckles. “Very good, Jon.”

He drew the sensation out, not yet gifting Jon the next part and instead slowly pushing his hand in deeper, keeping his eyes on Jon’s face. He’d squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in harshly through his open mouth.

“Jon,” Elias called softly to him, to watch his eyes flutter open, to catch a glimpse of the tears that had caught in his lashes, the fire that burned in his gaze.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against Jon’s leg and drove his fingers deeper.

Jon cried out as his body was seized by pleasure, tightening around Elias’s fingers, his hips bucking helplessly. All through it, Elias kept moving inside him, pushing in and out with a light twist to his hand. He was so captivated by Jon’s eyes that he nearly missed the handkerchief slipping between Jon’s wrists as he clawed at the sheets. Then his body relaxed, his eager little movements stilling. The air filled with the sound of his heavy breathing.

“Beautiful,” Elias said, nuzzling Jon’s thigh. Then he pulled out his fingers and listened to Jon’s dismayed groan with satisfaction. 

“Don’t worry,” he said as he leaned forward, brushing aside a lock from Jon’s forehead. “I will fill you up again soon enough.”

He kissed Jon, tasting the heat on his lips, but before he had the wherewithal to return the kiss, Elias pulled back again, reaching for the handkerchief and dangling it over Jon’s face.

“Though unfortunately, it seems some punishment is due. Rules are rules, after all.”

Jon bit his lip. Then he nodded.

“Or perhaps it won’t be much of a punishment after all, hm?”

“That’s… that’s not–” Jon began, but then he sighed. He’d always been such a poor liar.

Elias pushed Jon’s legs together and up to his chest, instructed Jon to hold them in place as he took one of his hands and hooked it below his knee. “I trust you won’t mess it up this time,” he said in a low voice, unable to help a laugh at Jon’s scowl, the way his fingers tightened. “Would be a shame to ruin this pretty sight.”

It was rather beautiful, he thought, running a hand down Jon’s tense thigh. The marks standing out on his heated skin, his hole glistening invitingly, his most sensitive parts exposed. He felt himself stir in his underwear and allowed himself a deep sigh, wondering how much harder it would be to resist fucking him just like that if he had already undressed.

Elias slipped to Jon’s side, followed by Jon’s eyes. From that angle, he could see Jon’s come slowly trail down to his chest, something Jon noticed with some measure of dismay, squirming slightly. Elias cupped his cheek, stroking his face with his thumb. Allowing himself to be distracted for a moment by the way Jon nuzzled into his palm. “I want you to count, Jon.”

Before Jon could even say anything, Elias raised his hand and let it crash down against his exposed buttocks. He admired how Jon’s eyes widened in the sudden shock of the pain, fell shut in the aftermath, as his cheek heated beneath Elias’s hand. “One.”

Elias gave him another, striking dangerously close to Jon’s perineum. A shock went through his body, his legs folding against themselves. “T–two.”

The next three blows came in short succession, barely allowing Jon to take a breath after counting them out. His legs were trembling now, but he held onto them tight, his fingers digging into his flesh.

“Very good, Jon,” Elias said, leaning down for a kiss, while he gave Jon’s arse another slap, the position lessening the impact. But Elias still got to relish Jon’s whimper against his lips. The quiet “six” he breathed out.

Jon’s cock started stirring again at nine, the abrupt slide against his stained abdomen every blow brought heightening the sensation. 

“Last one,” Elias said after number thirteen. Jon took deep breaths in anticipation, blinking away the tears that had gathered in his eyes, that hadn’t yet spilled down his temples.

Jon moaned when Elias’s hand struck him, the tips of his fingers landing just at the edge of his hole. He gave him no pause, sliding three inside immediately. A little groan escaped Jon. The tension and the position made him tighter, some of their progress lost. Elias was finding it harder and harder to remain patient.

“Four– fourteen,” Jon gasped with a slight delay, his hips and legs twitching. But he was still holding on.

“Well done,” he said in a low voice, giving Jon a pleased smile. He shifted behind Jon again, stroking his tense knuckles with his free hand, asking him to let go. It took a while for Jon to relax his leg into Elias’s hand as Elias positioned him, to hesitantly drop his own hands back to where they used to be. Elias traced the indents Jon’s nails had made in his own skin. Then let his hand trail downwards, to where Jon’s flesh was still heated from the blows, his skin taking on a lovely shade.

He leaned over Jon again, gently laying the handkerchief over his eyes this time. The fabric was too thin to truly obscure his sight. But the effect on him was still interesting. In the tension in his limbs, Elias could read an odd fear of staining something that was certainly precious. The alarm at having his eyes covered. The dread of disappointing again.

Elias sat back and withdrew his hand, gathered up some of the semen Jon had spilled on himself before pushing four fingers back into him. Desperate little noises escaped Jon, the stretch still a novelty, but he adjusted faster this time. Relaxing his muscles, though he still winced when Elias’s thumb brushed against his inflamed skin.

“I think it’s time to continue.”

Jon made an inquisitive sound before he caught himself. “Oh, right.”

“The world Mordechai had drawn me into frightened me. And in that moment, I don’t know if it was my gift that allowed me to still faintly observe the others in the room, or his that isolated me from them in such an insidious manner. And if Mordechai so wished, I would never escape this place, remaining forever barred from everything I still needed to know. I had no intention of allowing that to happen.”

He hadn’t quite set out to seduce Mordechai in that moment, and perhaps, Mordechai had seduced him, in his own way. There had been a certain risk in it, but Jonah had guessed the impersonality of the act would appeal to Mordechai. A stranger with whom he’d barely exchanged names doing no such things as begging for mercy and revealing more of their fear, but simply seeking the shared pleasure in it. Sinking to his knees and opening Mordechai’s trousers, freeing his cock. Jonah’s eyes fluttered briefly shut as he took the tip between his lips and tasted it, running his tongue along the slit. No sound betrayed Mordechai’s pleasure, but Jonah could see it, in the glimmer in his eye, in the tremble of his chin, in the way his tongue darted out between his lips, almost too quick to catch. But Jonah had seen it. And the deeper he took his cock, the closer he looked, the more he saw. Seeing beyond the silence that engulfed Mordechai.

Still seeing, even as Mordechai tightened his hand in his hair and pulled him roughly onto his prick, forcing himself into Jonah’s eager throat. Fucking him with sharp movements that pulsed through Jonah and flowed right between his legs. By the time he pulled Jonah off his cock, they were both panting heavily. And though his throat ached, Jonah still reached for it again, ready to take it again. Mordechai didn’t let him, his hand twisting so tight in Jonah’s hair that he moaned from that sensation alone. So instead, Jonah moved his hand along his cock with quick movements, until Mordechai reached his peak and spilled the evidence of his pleasure all over Jonah’s face.

Jon clenched tightly around Elias’s fingers as his voice trailed off into cut-off little sounds. His cock was fully hard again, twitching when Elias brushed his fingers against Jon’s prostate. He’d managed to work his hand in to the crook of his thumb while Jon had continued the statement. Now he withdrew his hand again, not fully, just enough to push the tip of his thumb inside.

At that, Jon cried out, his hips jerking upwards sharply. “Elias,” he said, alarmed. Elias could see the handkerchief shift slightly with Jon’s tension.

So Elias shushed Jon quietly, stroking his thigh with his thumb, drawing soothing little circles. “You’ve done so well so far,” he murmured against his skin. “I know you will make me proud.”

Jon’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, but Elias could see him try to take deeper breaths. He waited until Jon had calmed before he pour a generous amount of lube over his hand and continued. His thumb went in past the first knuckle, but any attempt to push deeper or move his fingers was met with vice-tight resistance.

“Almost there,” he soothed, pushing his thumb lightly outwards, widening the stretch inside Jon little by little. Sweat was beading on Jon’s flushed skin, his shaking hands clutching helplessly at the sheets. The exertion drew sharp breaths from him, interrupted by desperate moans.

Finally, Elias managed to push the broadest part of his hand inside. He let out an awed sigh when he felt Jon’s hole close around his wrist.

“Wonderful,” he said, feeling Jon clench down around him, shivering. He fucked Jon with his hand at a leisurely pace, slow, short movements, pulling back until his rim was stretched open at the widest part of his hand, then pushing inside, just a little deeper. Jon writhed with the sensation, his hips rocking against Elias in gentle motions, his cock dripping against his abdomen. 

“You deserve a reward,” he said, pressing his lips against Jon’s thigh. Pressing the remaining words of the statement into his skin.

“The silence between the two of us seemed to stretch into infinity. But I could tell that Mordechai’s hold on this world, on me, had wavered slightly. The figures around us were slowly moving back into focus, and I rose, already reaching into my pocket for a handkerchief, driven by the fear that guided me, of being seen, in such a state no less. But Mordechai had been faster than me, holding one of his own in front of my face, only to pull it back when I reached for it.

“Spell-bound, I watched him retrieve a small dagger from inside his coat, uncomprehending. Until he started cutting through the fine threads of his monogram on the handkerchief.”

“I wish to leave no mark,” Mordechai had then explained in an airy voice. “Neither on your face, nor in your memory.”

“I hope you are no stranger to disappointment, then,” Jonah had replied with wry amusement, raising his chin as Mordechai began tenderly wiping away his seed. Leaving only a small trace on his lips that Jonah had to lick away in a haste when the chatter around him resumed.

“Robert seemed quite startled to find me back in my seat, asking when I had returned. I don’t even remember how I’d answered, because it was then that I caught a last glimpse of Mordechai across the room. And for the first time, I saw him smile.”

Jon returned to himself with a content sigh, loose and relaxed for just a moment before the sensations caught up with him again, leaving him to writhe on the sheets, even as he tried so desperately to hold still.

“Please,” he moaned as Elias gave his hand a light twist, brushing his knuckles across Jon’s prostate. “Please.”

“Of course, Jon,” he said. And slowly pulled his hand out.

He couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the displeased sound Jon made, the edge of a scowl he could just barely see under the cover.

“You’ve already come on my hand once,” he explained, wiping his hand on a tissue and finally undressing fully, sighing at the relief it brought. “Don’t you want to come on my cock too?”

Jon nodded, the handkerchief threatening to slip away, but Elias caught it before that could have happened. Pulling it away himself, watching as Jon’s eyes slowly opened and found Elias’s. His gaze had lost the haziness of exhaustion, but his eyes still shined with need.

“I don’t think I heard your answer,” Elias teased, leaning over Jon, just a bit too far for their lips to brush against each other.

“Yes,” Jon says, trying to grind up his hips. “Please, Elias, I… I need…“

Elias sat back, pushing up Jon’s legs before leaning forward again, positioning himself. “Tell me what you need, Jon.”

Jon swallowed. “You.”

Finally, Elias pushed into Jon, allowing himself barely a moment of stillness, to enjoy the sensation of being in enveloped in the heat before he started fucking Jon hard. Jon wrapped his arms around him, panting against his shoulder, his neck, his moans hot against Elias’s skin.

With one final thrust, Elias drove himself deep into Jon, spilling inside him, marking him in this way, too. Jon barely managed to gasp out his name before following him over the edge, digging his nails into Elias’s back.

~

Jon’s face used to be so tense while he was dreaming. Now his features were relaxed, soft under Elias’s fingertips as he stroked his cheek. His breathing is calm, warm against Elias’s chest. It was almost a pity that he would not join Jon’s dreams, a figure lost in the centre of a full room.

He shifted, gently pushing Jon away, retreating as he always did until Jon woke up and left. The handkerchief, he left in Jon’s care, leaving him to decide whether to return it to the Institute or keep it for himself. Or perhaps dispose of it, but Elias found himself hoping he wouldn’t.

Next time, he would gift Jon a fresh statement again, allowing him to pull another hapless person into his nightmares. Still, he had so many memories left to share. And he was waiting for the day Jon would draw them out of him, one by one, hungry and curious and eager.


End file.
